


Home's Face

by DeathjunkE



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Slash, gen - Freeform, the Impala is a big black dude in my head, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baby's story, as told by the 1967 Impala himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home's Face

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers:  
> I refuse to believe anything after season 5 exist. So as long as you're caught up to S5 you're good (though I will admit if you watch the end of 6.14 you'll totally giggle)  
> This is the first full length SPN fic I've ever written, so please forgive any shittiness.
> 
> [Illustrations](http://myfriendfredric.livejournal.com/13121.html) by [myfriendfredric](http://myfriendfredric.livejournal.com) on Livejournal

I've got a long memory.  
It’s a natural thing with cars like me.

I was honed from the best steel and assembled piece by piece, first the frame then my axles, wires wheels about a dozen and a half systems, hundreds and hundreds of parts wires screw bolts clamps, seats, mirrors, ashtrays, vents, doors, trunk, panels, hood —then, finally, my engine.

I remember when I was suspended on the line there was a party, in honor of my sister Nuber100, so it must have been '67.

They built me in 20 hours, spread across three days. Things before my wheels touched the pavement are fuzzy at best, but once my engine started, everything was crystal clear.

I remember… I remember everything.

I remember Miss Sal Moriarty and Cooter.

Sally was vigilant and took it easy over potholes, never forgot to change my oil, warm my engine, polish the leather seats or scrub me clean on Saturday evenings. In turn I kept her safe, cradled her at night when she slept, let my windows tint and glare when she dressed and never let the tubes of make up she dropped roll beneath the seats.

She was a gorgeous thing. Her looks made her the kind of woman that every man looked twice at and every woman scorned. She wasn’t welcome in many places but that didn't stop her from swinging her hips and walking in anyway, no matter what the signs said.

She was shapely, tall, with skin the color of clay on the side of the rural Wisconsin roads; Her hair was cropped short and styled close to her scalp. and she dressed as if she had stepped out of a fashion magazine with her wide brimmed hats, five inch heels and candy-apple-red lipstick. She toted a little red suitcase behind her everywhere she went and Cooter a giant white Sheppard trotted at her side.

"Lock up your husband, Sally's in town." They'd whisper when they saw me slide up their streets rumbling all the way, "That bitch is selling more than bibles."

The sneers and jeers were unfounded. Sally was a good woman.  
I carried her and her giant mutt Cooter ever day, state-to-state, city-to-city, town-to-town, door-to-door as she sold Bibles. Big print, leather bound King James bibles with complementary ribbon bookmarks.

Every state line and city boundary we crossed we stopped at the nearest church. Baptist, protestant, Seven Day Adventist, Catholic— denomination didn’t matter. Every Sunday, I took her to service where she would sing, listen to homilies and do devotionals and sell her bibles. Cooter and I would wait outside for her.

One day she led a little boy with red sneakers, tattered jeans and a riot of red curls to me, flipped open me and her red suitcase. She gave him her bible. A little green book with slips of papers, a lock of hair and scribbles in the margins to him with a smile.

The boy in turn kissed her cheek and laid a hand on my left door. That's when I felt it. I don’t know what it was but it resonated deep with in me, down to my very frame. When the boy lifted his hand from my side his image flickered in my side view mirror and he disappeared.

Later that night Cooter growled deep and low when too thick too black smoke tried to worm its way into my vents. I don’t know how it happened but the moment it slid past my grille the smoke hissed and writhed among my insides dying and evaporating into noting.

Sally slept on undisturbed.

 

For seven years Sally, Cooter and I drove up and down the Midwest.

One evening Sally pulled over at the side of the road, hooked on Cooter's leash, and led the mutt down to the grass. Three loud cracks echoed through the shrubbery and I waited.

I waited for three nights with a bottle of seltzer, a Tupperware of potato salad and cold cut sandwiches rotting in the cooler in the front seat, a hundred and fifty bibles in the red suitcase in my back seat, and stacks of neatly folded clothing and shoeboxes in my trunk. I waited until the day the tow truck came and dragged me all the way to the front gate of a fenced in car lot.

There I saw Sally sitting on a seat with wheels. The first thing I noticed was that her long lovely legs gone.

Those shoes I had in my trunk may as well have rotted too for all the good they'd do now. My lovely Sally with her tall proud stride had been cut down brutally.

"That looks like far too much car for a girl," A man who jumped out of the tow truck whistled low.

"That's just enough car for a woman like me." She said proud, her fingers grazed my side and I longed for thee warmth of her hands on my steering wheel. "My car" She swallowed thickly before continuing, " …This car, has never given me a lick a trouble. It's been home to me since I left Wisconsin… It's a good car. I changed the oil, kept the upholstery clean. Tune ups every 6 months like clockwork and… just find some one who will take good care of it."

"Don’t worry, Miss." A second man said and he took my keys gently from Sally's hands, "I'll find some one who can appreciate a car like this one and your dog will be right at home too. You're doing what's best…"

Sally kissed Cooter's shaggy head, scratched him and gave him a hug before handing his leash off to the man who had my keys. Sally rolled around to my trunk and pulled her clothes out. She left the bibles, she left the cooler and she left the shoes.

Her palm rested against the metal of my trunk lid and I felt her warmth, her soul, leaving an imprint on me.

"Baby," She whispered, breathe hitching and hands trembling, "You were never humble, but you certainly were home."

(-)

I waited for just a little over 3 months at that lot for a suitable driver.

There were a few close calls, a kid with mud on his shoes and the attention span of a rabid gopher. During the test-drive I swerved and stalled and ground my gears wanting him out of me. He just wasn't my type, and I wouldn’t go anywhere with him.

The second close call was a young man with a sharp suit and a small blonde woman. She moaned and griped about how Black was such a boring color and wouldn't I look nicer in Champagne? Or maybe hot pink.

I refused to move. I was stuck in park, and she was stuck with the rabbit across the lot. Ha, pink, there was no way I'd let that fly.

Close call number three hadn't been a close call at all. The man wandering into the lot and glanced at me from across the isle. He was standing next to a mini van but he was staring straight at me. He was young, just about the age my Sally was when she brought me off the line. He was just about as tall as she was with her favorite black heels on.

I admit, I got a bit self-conscious and wondered if a bird had crapped on my roof again. It wouldn’t be the first time but being a black car those things were very, very noticeable.

 

He took a step closer and another man, a year or so older was standing a little behind him. Both stared at me with reverence. The younger one looked back at the old VW van and started talking with the lot owner about prices.

The other man sauntered over to me and immediately I felt a pull deep down in my axels and transmission. This one, _he_ was my Driver. I could feel it as he leaned against my side and ran his hand over my roof.

"Hey, baby." He crooned in a deep rasped voice, "You look amazing, not that you'd look anything else just… Damn you're barely six years off the line."

I wanted him to get behind the wheel and let me be for him what I was for Sally and more. He was tired and his very essence screamed son of the road. I wanted to cradle him in my front seat and hit a long stretch of highway. I angled my mirrors to have a better look at the Man who resonated with me so beautifully.

His face as he watched the younger man who was trying to clear away dirt from the VW's mirrors was one of wonder and sadness. He took a deep breath patted me once more and called out, "That's not the one you want."

The other man looked up, startled at first then wary, "You following me?"

"No, no, I was just passing by. I never got to thank you for that cup of coffee this morning - I was a little out of it."

"More than a little."

"Let me repay the favor. This is the one you want. "

I was outraged! Livid! How dare the man so perfectly suited to me, the one I was _made_ for shunt me off to this idiot who was ready to degrade himself and buy a scrapheap VW when I was parked right here. Sure the kid looked at me and marveled at me, but honestly it was expected. All the men took a look but this was outrageous!

"Oh yeah, you- you know something about cars?"

My driver nodded his head, a look of nostalgia on his face, "Yeah...yeah, my Dad taught me everything I know... And this- this is a great car."

I felt the his voice resonate with something deep inside me… deeper than my axils or my frame. These were truly words of the highest praise. I didn't mind when he curled his fingers under my hood and lifted it to look at my mechanisms and parts. They both leaned over me and all I could see was their legs but I heard what passed between them.

"327 four barrel, 275 horses. A little TLC and this thing is cherry. "

"You know man, you're right."

"Then what are you buying that thing for?"

"I kinda promised someone I would. "

"Over a '67 Chevy? I mean, come on, this is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's 40."

I had to admit I was stunned by that. The lives of cars are very rarely long. I expected 15 to 20 years at best, if I was lucky enough to have an attentive driver who looked after me and avoided accidents. For this man to be willing to imagine me 40 years in to the future, unheard of. I ached just a little more to be with him.

"John Winchester," says the younger man, "thanks."

"Dean Van Halen - and thank you." Says the man I want behind my steering wheel. Dean, I'll have to remember that.

They chat for a bit more as I do my best to impress upon my memory. I am made to remember the roads, to be a home to those I carry but from now on every mile I put behind me will be another mile I wait until Dean is behind the wheel.

"So?" said the sales man as he emerged from the office, papers in hand.

"I'll take this one." the young man says. It will take some time but I know somewhere deep down in my gears and gaskets that Dean and I will cross paths once more.

(-)

John had spoke of the beach and Mary asked question after question. She said she’d never seen the ocean and never played in sand that wasn't in a land locked box. John smirked and told her to pack a bag, they’d go see it now.

It was the first time John drove me the way I was intended to be driven —Over miles and miles of highway country toad with the windows down and my stereo blaring— he and his woman packed up my trunk with blankets towels and clothes, put a cooler in the passenger seat foot well and drove.

It was a pleasant two days. I love the weight in my cab once more and the quick whisper pace of the tar and dirt roads under my wheels. The sun baked my roof but the constant pace created a breeze through my body. The air flipped and whirled Mary's wild honey Blondie hair around and she laughed as she chatted with John, constantly pushing the hair out of her face.

John harassed Mary good-natured, goosing her at red lights, placing teasing kisses along the wrist and hand of the arm he's snatch up every now and again. He didn’t speak much but he was happy and singing in a decent, but off key voice to Creedence Clearwater Revival.

When the sun went down and they both were tired John would look for the best place off the side of the road to stop, but I was resistant. I wanted to help the romance along not kill it, so I'd roll forward take a bt of control so that we'd be in large grassy meadows under the stars.

John grumbled about my breaks and steering column but Mary smiled and pulled the blankest from the heap in the back seat. They would curl up on my bench and I'd cradle them beneath the stars. Some times they were enamored with the wides stretches of sky and other times they were just all about the stretches of their own bodies.

Three days of driving, visiting little towns out in the middle of nowhere and two nights of being parked in clear grassy fields brought us to the edge of New Mexico. The tar of the parking lot looked high over the sand dunes and waves.

It was the middle of the night and Mary had the sleeve of her sweater pressed up against here nose and mouth as she gagged. “Is the ocean supposed to smell like shit?”

“No. I don’t know what the hell is going on here.” John pushed my door open and wandered over to the sign that was strung across the yellow tape blocking the entrance to the sand. “Sewage line burst! The beach is closed for clean up until next month.”

“That explains the smell...” She muttered. I felt her body shift my cab as she climbed across the bench and out of the driver's side door. “Well let's go find a hotel or something! I want to take a shower.”

John herded Mary back to the passenger’s side with his body and pulled out of the lot going back in the direction we had come. “We’re going to Florida.”

“Ah, John, I’m tired of driving around.” She grumbled and leaned against my seats.

“But you wanted to see the beach yeah? If there is no traffic then we can be there tomorrow morning. We can get breakfast and hit the beach. Florida’s a lot nicer like an island. They’ve got palm trees.”

Mary smiled and reached over and put her hand on John's thigh, "That’s sweet Johnny really, but it's alright I’ll see the ocean another time.”

"We've got to do something while we're out here..."

"John. Really its alright."

"The grand canyon! We'll go to the Grand Canyon. Its not the ocean but I'm sure it's beautiful. I've never seen it myself though."

"You are determined that we go somewhere aren't you?"

"Yup."

"Drive on then." Mary conceded and leaned back into my bench.

(-)

I got them safely to the Grand Canyon just as the stars were starting to dot the sky. We were close to the edge a wire fence keeping the more curious humans a safe distance from the edge.

Mary was the first to climb out of my cab and stretched languidly before walking up to the fence. John followed her after he reached into the cooler in one of my foot wells and pulled out two beers.

They stood at the fence in silence.

I didn’t know if this was one human thing. Sally never did this. She filled silence with chatter. She conversed with Cooter or sung along with the radio as we ambled through the country.

After the moon was high in the sky and it was nearly black they came back towards me.

Mary turned mid step reached her hands up so that they cradled john's face and pulled him down, forcing him to stoop his shoulders and ban his neck so she could kiss him.

I wondered what it would be like to have hands… To have lips.  
I would like to know what is like to be human for a little bit but… Humans are so very slow. They run slower than I could ever tolerate and they're frail…

I'd rather be me, grill and all.

The man from the lot, the one who was supposed to be my Driver, he liked me just the way I am. I wonder if I were human could I go searching for him?  
I was started out of my musing when John lifted Mary and placed her on my hood. They were barely dressed. Mary's skirt ripped and pushed up around her waist. John was on top of her, his hands hot and searing on the cool metal of my hood. I was rocked along with their movements. Their grunts, moans, and hoarse breathless shouts echoed in the canyon.

Humans. How vulgar.

(-)

John had burst from the house with an arm around Mary and a duffel bag in his free hand. Her face had been pinched and her now usual waddle had slowed to a pained shuffle. Once she was in my cab safely and breathing through gnashed teeth John darted around to the driver side. He tossed the duffle into the back seat and slid the key into my ignition as he pulled the door shut and pealed out of the driveway.

We moved at a decent pact for a while, bypassing the congested K-10 for one of the alternate routes to the hospital but it didn’t matter. There was snow everywhere and the roads were slippery and my wheels could barely grip the pavement even with the tread chains. It was a blizzard and here I was in the 8 A.M. gridlock.

I watched Mary with my mirrors and let my wheels shift in the slush. The plow honestly couldn’t be taking this long; plows have bigger wheels heavier chains and got to drive in the priority lanes. I couldn’t even get around to those lanes, I was boxed in the center lane and there wasn’t a single opening.

"John, open the fucking window!" Mary panted, her hands clutching at the door and the other on the seat. I could feel her body trembling through the leather upholstery. The pain was really getting to her.

"Mary, you don’t have on a coat, its freezing, you'll get sick"

"I'm hot! Open the _fucking_ window!" She shrieked, wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over. 

And then I realized that my upholstery and the carpeting of my foot wells were wet. Soaked in fact, I tried to angle my mirrors down to see the damage but they wouldn’t pivot that far and all I could see was Mary damp legs and ruined skirt. I just hoped that I wouldn’t stain.

"Your daughter's not waiting, John. So get the towel out of my bag and fucking help me!" As more snow fell and the cars around me puffed out smoky clouds of exhaust John fumbled through what ever order Mary issued between panting breathed and pained shouts.

It took about an hour and a half, but soon enough there was a third human in my cab.

Discreetly I angled my mirrors to see the now little thing I'd be carrying from now on. He was small, red faced and letting out gasping little breaths. It was reminiscent of the old junkers that I passed on the way to the auto shop with John during the week. They wheezed and panted as if they were puffing through whatever troubles they had until John could get his hands under their hoods or slide him self under their bodies for a proper inspection and repair.

When they came like that they left the shop running smoothly, rumbling like myself or whisper silent as their driver's eased them out of the shop. Gleaming and looking like new. So I guess the child was fine, I don’t really know. I can't judge humans too well. I know their faces change with their health, with time and with their… emotions… but I don’t have the same feelings, the same tells.

It took another ten minutes for any of the cars to inch forward.

"It's a boy." John whispered as if his voice would disturb the tranquility of my cab. He put his hands on my steering wheel and I could feel his trembling all the way through my steering column.

"Yeah, guess we have to drop the name Deanna after all."

"Nah, We'll call him Dean." John smiled weakly at Mary and the baby, his face pale and eyes wide. "Besides, your old man hated me. I don't need my kid to hate me too."

"Dean? Dean Winchester… Yeah, I like that name… It’s a good name." Mary pulled the baby even closer to herself and looked own at it. "Dean…Hello Dean, I'm your Momma. It's nice to finally meet you."

Traffic started to move again. There were mountains of snow on either side of the road but the lanes were clear.

Dean.  
How cruel.  
If only they had known I was waiting for a Dean too. Dean Van Halen.

(-)

It wasn’t as cold as it had been the last time I had taken Mary home. During the day the sun was beginning to melt the ice that stuck to the shingles of the roof of the house. And the brown grass was regaining its green color. It was still cold though and people wore hats and bulky coats. Some of the cars still had their tread chains on their tires.

I sat in the driveway watching the stillness of the night and bright stars when the door to the house John, Mary and the baby lived in. John stomped across the mostly dead lawn to me. He was shaggy looking with lots of hair on his face, a black hat, a green robe, and slippers.

In his hand he held a car seat that contained a screaming baby. I could see in my mirror that the child was red faced from screaming, its hand's balled into fists poking out of the layers of blue and brown blankets. The shrieking continued as John strapped down the baby seat.

It was amazing that something so small could be so loud. He would have drowned out the hums, buzzes and alarms of the factory back in Wisconsin. I was so busy marveling at the noise the little Dean made that I was startled to realize that I was moving.

John was muttering curses and pleading with the baby to be quiet as he steered me around the block. At the first right turn the baby had quieted and was looking around with sleepy green eyes and a fist in his mouth. My cab moved steadily rocking back and forth along the pavement as it always did.

This was nothing new for me, but the baby was enchanted with the movement. He turned his head a bit, making the brown hat he was wearing ride up and slip off. He was that muddy blonde like the Dean that I recalled from the lot.

The baby's eyes closed when we circled the block for the seventh time. He was lax and sprawled in his seat. I couldn’t help but think if the way that Sally used to sprawl across the bench with Cooter after a particularly long drive. It was like he knew he was perfectly safe with in my cab. And then I was enchanted with him, the little thing that could put so much trust in me.

It was then I decided that he could be my Dean.  
I would no longer wait for a Dean Van Halen, but for little Dean Winchester to slide between my Driver's seat and my steering wheel.

(-)

The thing they never tell you about humans is how the multiply. I started off with one person, just john. Then came Mary and she nearly ruined my upholstery with Dean and then there was another red squalling thing in my cab. We were coming from the building where they got the baby and Mary was holding her newest spawn to her chest and proceeded to offend me.

“John, don’t you think we should get a van? I mean the car is nice and all but our family is growing now, we need to make sure we have enough room.”

I’m a roomy car, you can fit three grown men in my back seat and another three in the front. Two children, a slip of a woman and a man barely crowded my cab. I was so irritated at her cavalier attitude and blatant dismissal of the obvious that I turned my attention away from my cab and back to the road.

John drove well, so more often than not I let him have complete control but I took over and stopped abruptly. There was something amiss, I could feel it in my shocks.

John cursed and pressed the gas, but I refused to move.

“See we need a new—”

Out of no where a lime green Pontiac Firebird Trans Am skid and squealed across the tree highway lanes and slammed into the railing not five feet in front of me. The whole car screeched, metal twisting in on its self and then rolled from roof to wheels to roof going farther and farther ahead finally landing ontop of another sedan.

My cab was silent and i could feel John’s clammy hands and forehead on my steering wheel. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He whispered his warm breath ghosting over my horn. “Premium gas, for ever I promise i dont care how broke I am. I’ll never sell you for parts either.”

I took those words at face value, john hadn’t given me a reason not to trust him so far.

(-)

The driveway was the only place not in flames. The flames glowed with an eerie beauty as they devoured the house. There were people watching from across the street and the blaring of sirens from blocks away.

I watched the door in my rearview wondering if my family would come out. I didn't have to wait very long before I saw the door fly open. The orange and yellow glow of the fire was all I saw at first then came a tiny figure stumbling forward. Little Dean stumbled out of the fire covered in soot, coughing as he escaped the inferno with an armful of blankets and screaming baby.

Dean walked to the edge of the porch and wavered. He wasn’t supposed to go father than the porch steps with out an adult. It struck me as funny how now of all times Dean remembered this rule, any other time he would have been halfway across the lawn by now, adult or no adult.

One of the gawking neighbors came forward and pulled the boys away from the porch leading them to the edge of the drive. When Dean began trembling, his knees weak and his body swaying in distress they sat him on my hood and tried to pull the baby away from him. He held on tighter and refused to let Sam go.

The fire truck pulled up onto the lawn and several men jumped off and started preparing themselves to go in. One of them came over to the neighbor and the boys.

"Do you know who else is in there?"

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. He tried again to speak and started gagging.

"Are your Mommy and Daddy in the house?"

Still all Dean could do was gag helplessly and hold the crying baby closer.

There was a commotion on the lawn and the focus was once again on the house. John emerged from the house coughing and covered in soot his bathrobe singed and tears streaming down his face as he tripped and stumbled on his lawn shoving firemen and paramedics away from him as he walked backwards not taking his eyes off of the blaze.

"Sir is there any one else in the house?"

"Mary… Mary, she's dead… She's dead." The fire was half way extinguished before John could say anything else. He heard the baby's screaming and watched Dean tremble in the cool November air. Even though the fire blazed bright and hot Dean still shivered.

John pulled my back door open and lifted the boys onto to the bench seat and sat on my hood to stare at the flames as they died down.

(-)

They emerged from the motel without bags, guns or little Sammy. So it was clear that we weren't driving off in a mad dash towards any state lines or heading in the direction of any dangerous things.

John came to my passenger's side door and I couldn’t help but wonder why. John had never, not even once touched my side door for anything other reason but to clean or wax me. There were no buckets of suds, sponges and overly excited boys not was there the can of turtle wax.

One look at Dean's face proved that he was just as confused. His eyebrows were drawn together and his pink mouth was pouting, he hated being regulated to the back seat even if he slept best there.

"Well what are you waiting for? Get in." John tossed the keys to Dean, and slammed my door.

There was stillness in that moment.

Dean's green eyes were impossibly huge and his jaw was slack in surprise. Eventually the message went through and he beamed a huge bright smile. He all but flew to the driver's side and slid into the seat.

At that moment I knew.

The feeling, the power that the child had forced into me on that Sunday all those years ago flared up strong as things fell perfectly into place. Sally lost her leg for this moment, John had brought me for this moment, Dean Van Halen, The Dean Winchester that was yet to be— it all culminated to this exact moment.

As excited at the boy was, I was beyond overjoyed. Most cars, and people from what I have come to understand, never know exactly why they are here. Why they have been created or what will become of them. When Dean slid into my Drivers seat and placed his hands on the steering wheel I felt it. This was my purpose. I was to carry Dean Winchester wherever he needed me to. My purpose was to shelter him, that was what I was created for. I was entrusted with the new Messiah.

It's ironic the way these things work.

The Messiah that Mary spoke of, promoted and prayed to had been born in a barn and had ridden a donkey descended from the one he was born beside. Dean —who I knew from the light the radiated from him, from the holy power that was steeped into me, preserved, cured and strengthened with the sigils that John carved into me when he started his hunt— was born with in my body and would ride in me to his great and numerous battle.

Dean put the key into my ignition and everything was suddenly right.

"Left is break, right is gas. You know how to switch gears?" John's voice was filled with pride and patience.

"Yessir."

"Good boy, then put her in reverse and lets get started."

(-)

I don’t know what happened that caused Sam to burst from the old cabin John and Dean had come to in search of John Dee. Dean followed Sam down the steps calling out for him to wait.

"Don’t try to talk me back, Dean."

"Sam, you don’t understand…" Dean approached his brother reaching out for him. Though Dean was very much a man, I saw the raw want of an abandoned child in his face and longed to cradle him in my cab once more and let him know that I wouldn't let him be alone.

"I don’t understand? Can't you see how he treats me?" Sam finally turned around to face Dean, his face grave and showing not one bit of the happy child who shoved Jammed a toy soldier in my ashtray (not that anyone smoked in me). "Besides everything I do turns to shit."

"Have faith! He's doing this for you, for us."

"He's doing this for himself." There was blatant anger and a wry amusement in Sam's eye. "It's slow motion suicide, and I'm not going down with him. Neither should you."

"I can't leave Dad, he needs us."

In the end Sam walked away and Dean went back inside the cabin.

Three days later he came out of the rundown little building. His face was pale and he had dark rings under his eyes as he slid into the drivers seat. His bag was the only one he tossed into my trunk and my cab felt oddly light with just Dean alone.

"They left me," he muttered as his hands gripped my steering wheel. "They left me. Fuck, what do I do…" Dean leaned forward, bowing his head until it was pressed against my steering wheel.

I wished I could speak.  
I wished I could tell him that I loved him, I was made for him and that would never leave him alone. I'll cradle him in my cab until the end of days and even longer if he's let me.

All I could do was sit there as Dean's tears dripped down to my leather and carpeting.

(-)

It hurt.

Not the crowbar, my body's made of metal and I don’t feel much unless it's happening in under the hood or between my wheels.

Yeah, I hadn’t ever dreamed Dean of all people would try to bash my sides in. I can understand why —And honestly, I thought I deserved it too. They put so much trust in me, taken suck good care of me, given me purpose far beyond what was originally intended.

Since the fire I had become so much more than a car.

I had been a home to a family of three. Safe in my cab they slept, ate, laughed, cried, fought and traveled.

I had been a cradle for two restless, sleepy children. When both boys were tired John used to put the coolers in my back seat foot wells so that they were the same height as my bench and layer the blankets and pillows down so both boys could curl up comfortably and I could rock and soothe them to sleep.

I was a protector, when the dark shadows came and tried to get in through the vents and windows I repelled them, not allowing them to reach inside of me and take away the boys.

I had been a teacher's aid. Countless times John propped my hood and let the boys peer over the edge as he taught them everything that they weren't in school to learn —Math, science, history and reading all through his questions and lectures. Whenever there was a rest stop, down time or even just at the side of the road assisting someone who's car was giving them trouble (because never have I ever (before now anyway) not come though for my family) John would call the boys over.

"Do you know how engines work boys?", "Where are the pistons, Sammy?", "Dean, how full would you say the oil tank is? 2/3rds full or 1/4th of the way?" and "tell me what does this say? Are you sure we're going to put this break fluid in there?". 

The children that grew up inside of me, that played in my cab… They were men now, men with destinies that were unfair and cruel and ultimately unchangeable.

My Dean, my Driver, my messiah…

He had all but died in my Drivers seat and I could do nothing. I failed, that was all there was to it. I deserved every strike of that bar and all of his anger because had it not been for me he would have never been hurt and John would have never sold his soul.

After a few minutes Dean propped his arms on my roof and pressed his forehead to the glass. "I'm sorry baby. God, I'm so sorry."

I wanted to tell him, that he shouldn't be sorry. That it was me who fucked up. I was supposed to protect him and keep him safe and that I was the one who failed and that I was sorry and ashamed and wanted nothing but the best for my Dean.

(-)

I didn’t think anything of the girl at first. She was young, barely out of adolescence it seemed to me. She walked around me a few times eyeing me critically.

It wasn’t anything new. People eyed me up all the time, in admiration, in fear in lust and even envy. It had been some years since I had been built on the line. I was considered a “classic”, a “muscle car”. I was used to being looked at especially with all these trashy little things on the road.

The girl was young and plain. She didn’t have the flare of Cassie, the seductiveness of Lisa, or the body that would ensure that she and Dean held up on my back bench for a few hours after sunset. She was brown. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin with no noticeable features. There was too much meat on her small frame, her sides bunged and it looked like she managed to swallow a tire. She wore blue jeans with speckles of different shades of pinkish brown and a similarly splattered shirt with rolled up sleeves. under her arm was tucked a notebook and in her hand she held a brown cloth.

She looked around and chewed her bottom lip, as if she was afraid. After a moment she walked besides me, I kept her in my rear view. Then she crouched down besides my exhaust pipe and jammed something right up my exhaust. She kept pushing it farther and farther up

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing to my car!” I had been so intent on seeing what this girl was doing to me that I hadn’t even seen Dean walk out of the motel.

“Fuck, fuck, damn.” she muttered and yanked her hand out of my pipe and stumbled backwards.

“Hey! watch it!” Dean reached out and snatched her wrist up, puling her away from the in coming traffic. “Don’t you dare die before you tell me what you did to my car!”

After that i couldn’t see, couldn’t hear everything was swirling. My memories flickered in my mind my cab shrunk and twisted. my wheels grew hot and long just before I felt an pulsing ache that rendered some kind of sound from me. When everything stopped I was cold and the parts of me touching the ground hurt.

“IT WORKED! HA! IT WORKED!” I turned a bit and saw the girl from before. She was jumping up and down crowing in place even as Dean was holding fat to her arm. “Oh god, it worked!”

I looked ahead of me once more and saw the licence plate of the car in front of me, but the angle was wrong and i couldn’t see behind me at the same time. I looked down to where it felt like my front wheels were and there on the pavement were hands. Large, dark, blunt fingered hands.

“What is this!? What did you do!”

“He’s alive! He came to life! Isn’t it great!”

“Stay right there, don’t you dare move.” Dean reached forward and snatched the little notebook from her hands.

A hand that I had felt so many times before gripped my ...shoulder? I turned to see Dean’s face not more than a few inches from me. “D-Dean.” I heard my voice for the first time, it wasn’t too far from the sound of my usual engine sounds, a deep half pur half growl.

“Holy shit,” He whispered, eyes wide. We sat there for a minute, Dean looking at me and me looking back at him, wonder in we’d ever been so close before. “Ah.. come on. Lets get you some clothes. We don’t want you getting arrested.” He shrugged off his leather and wrapped it around me before pulling me up.

Once i was up right i suddenly realized why humans are so slow. you see, having two legs instead of four tires is very different. Balance that cant be fixed at a shop is needed to move at even a slow pace. It was thoroughly tiring business even with two people holding me up.

Dean opened the door to the motel room with a quick swipe of his key and the three of us lumbered in. I had never seen a motel room before. It was really quite a horrid place; everything was covered in garish patterns there were no cup holders or benches, no stereo and the awful small of sex and vomit. Dean and the girl lowered me on to something and i just looked straight a head at the mirror that covered the wall.

I always knew what I looked like. I caught sight of myself in many picture, in the reflection of silver cars that pulled up next to me and the mirrored aviator shades that the motorcyclist wore.. But this, this was new.

I was human... or at least i looked like it. I was as big a John used to be. My shoulders were wider, more square. My hair was sleek black with speckles of chrome, the same color as my detail. My paint ...skin, was darker than any of the Winchesters, a deep earthy brown. My body was covered in thin wiry hairs.

I looked up at my face and was rather startled by what i saw. I looked nothing like any of the Winchester's that I had been with for so long. My jaw was broad square and hard, the planes of what i suppose is my face were angular and solid. My eyes were silver and deep set in my face. There were laugh line, wrinkles and a few freckles but I had never seen a face that looked like this before.

This stranger in the mirror was me.

After a moment I looked tot he two others in the room and tried to remember the words that I heard so often but never spoke myself. “What ...happened? What did ...you ...do to me?”

“That really you?” Dean questioned warily moving closer to me.

“Yeah... It’s me...” I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. All of these years I wanted to talk to Dean to tell him things and here was my chance and i simply didn’t know how. “I promise...Only me.”

“You, start fucking talking. What did you do to my car!”

“Don’t worry!” The girl smiled at me bright and happy, like that she lost her plainness and looked somewhat pretty. She stepped forward eagerly and looked at me withsuch unadulterated hope that I felt a bit nervous.“It’s just a spell to animate things, I tweaked it so that the things that were animated would take on a human shape.”

“Spells? Magic? You’re fucking around with magic do you have any clue—” Dean’s tarade cut off abruptly as he eyed her up suspiciously, “Shit, you’re a witch aren’t you?”

“Witches? No, no I just know a little Hood-Doo and some Brujeria. Nothing dangerous.” She put her hands up in a placating manner and inched even closer to me. Her eyes locked on my neck and she was watching the subtle movements of my breathing.

Dean wrapped a hand around her arm and yanked her back, I thought briefly of the “personal space” he talked about with that angel that rode in the back bench from time to time. They were just about nose to nose.

“These things are always dangerous! What’s a kid like you doing playing with this shit anyway.”

“I’m not a kid!” She snapped back pulling away from Dean and standing back, arms crossed over her chest a a fierce scowl on her face. Oddly, I was reminded of the Sam of years past. He wore that same face when ever he was told no by John or Dean. Defiant, determined and angry.

My driver lowered his voice as he lectured, “You’re irresponsible with information and do stupid shit like fucking with people’s cars! that’s kid shit to me! Answer the fucking question already!”

“I needed to make sure the spell worked. I blended three different kinds of hex bags and two spells to make this work and I needed to be sure. Its not an exact science you know.”

“Why? tell me why.”

“She’s trying to bring something she loves to life.” It seemed a bit obvious to me. It was the same reason both Dean and sam sold their souls and morals (albeit in different ways). No human would go through all of this trouble if why drain the life from your boy if you didn’t get something they loved in return.

“She’s not a thing! don’t call her that!” The girl snapped at me this time, actually speaking directly to me for the first time since this whole fiasco started. “She’s as much of a thing as you ever were. The spell wouldn’t have worked had there not been emotions attached to you.”

“Call who what? What are you doing bring back the dead? That never works out well for anyone. Calling up bodies with out souls...”

“No, no, I’m not bringing anyone back. You cant do that with out selling your soul.”

Dan let out a thick sigh and dragged a hand down his face, “What’s your name kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“What’s your name?”

“Constance,” The girl bit into her lower lip, letting it slide through her teeth. “Constance Richards.”

“Just fucking great,” I knew some how that the hunt before Jessica died had cycled through his mind. Some names carried with them lots of misery. Dean pulled the little notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped through the pages, finally stopping on one closer to the beginning and flipping back to his current page. “I’m guessing it’s not a coincidence these two look identical?”

“You, you are awfully nosy!” She tried to snatch the book back but Dean pulled away and held it out of her reach. “Oh what are you ten?”

“Who is this?” He pointed to a small picture, not unlike the Polaroids John used to take of the boys sitting on my hood when they were children. Only there were no boys, just a beautiful girl. She had red-gold hair and blue eyes and he was swinging a tennis racket in the picture. her features were sharp, defined and catlike and her body was built thick and shapely enough to get her invited back to a motel room with Dean even on the worst of days.

“That’s Gissele. She’s a friend of mine...” Constance tried to snatch the book out of Dean’s hands but he pulled it away at the last moment before flipping to another picture.

“So why do you have a mannequin that looks just like her.”

“I make her her jewelery and clothes for her pageants, I—I need a decent replica to work with.”

“Yeah, okay but you don’t need a head and hair that looks exactly like her down to the mole on her cheek.” Dean flipped through the book, his lips pressed into a thin line as everything came together. “You’re going to bring this thing to life?”

“What do you know!” She snatched the book from Dean’s hands and tucked it under her arm once more.

“Why? Why would you do that?” I said, finally getting accustomed to words. “Is this girl not a already your...friend?”

“Life is so much simpler for objects....” She sneered and headed towards the door to be blocked by Dean’s body.

“That is not an answer.”

“Giselle will be my friend until the day she decides otherwise. But this new Giselle... She will be so much more.” Her voice was thick with emotion as she spoke, she was barely containing herself.

“So you’ve got some kinda weirdo crush on your best friend? Is that it.” “Hate to break it to you honey, that’s really fucking creepy.”

“It’s not a crush. and I’m not a weirdo.”

“You built a replica of her and intend to animate it instead of just telling her you like her. That’s weird, and more than a bit chickenshit too.”

“Giselle hates, people like me. Her pastor says we’re unnatural. If I tell her...” Constance’s lips pressed closed tightly in a thin line and she snorted out an exasperated sound, “Why do you even care?”

“My job is to stop people from getting caught up with shit like this. There is always a price.”

“ I know just what my price is and I’m willing to pay it.” I believed her too. There wasn’t anything in her face or stance that betrayed second guesses wariness or even remorse.

“Look, don’t do this. You can find some one else. You can get a boyfriend or girlfriend or casual sex partner or what ever just— Not this.”

“Says the man with the perfect face and please fuck me car? I’m sure you can get any man or woman you want into your bed.” Constance’s face went blank once more and she became smooth brown. Her dayk eyes looked Dean up and down and then she leveled him with a cool stare. “You don’t know me, you don’t know what its like to be so lonely that you’d do just about anything for some one to look at you let alone touch you. When you understand just how desperate and pathetic you need to be to build your own lover— then you can lecture me all you want.”

“You know what, I’ve got other things to worry about so if you want fuck yourself over be my guest! Just fix my car!”

“Alright, alright i can do that. I’ll be back with the right spell and hexbag in a day... it takes 24 hours to complete the ritual.” She moved to the door and looked back at us. I”ll fix him, he was only an experiment... but I wont stop my plans.”

 

The room was silent once Constance left and all I did was watch Dean stare at me. When I didn’t have the ability to speak, there were so many things i wanted to say to Dean... but it seems like all of those things had since deserted me,

“You just going to stand there and look?” I questioned a after a few minutes of silence. silence was not something I had ever been accustomed to. Dean’s voice was loud, his music was loud his presence was loud. When Dean was asleep or away there was the noise of life, of traffic and cities, never the blankness of silence.

Dean took a step back before he approached the bed and sat besides me. His face still lit with curiosity and more than a little wariness. “I’m still trying to get this through my head.”

“Get what?”

“Not only is my Baby sitting in front of me but She’s a Man.”

I smirked and shrugged, the fact that I didn’t have tits freaked him out the most. Oh Dean. “Yeah, well, what can I say. I’m a shark, a man’s car.”

“This is going to be awkward.”

“What is?” I felt my brows draw closer together a I tried to puzzle out what was bothering my Driver, My Dean.

“What do I call you?” He asked. I took in the sight of dean as I hadn't seen him before, Leaning forward with his elbows were propped on his knees and his fingers were laced together loosely pressed against his lips. Usually when he was in my can he was sitting at the wheel on maybe sprawled across the back bench, napping or reading. From time to time Dean even sprawled out on my hood and basked in the sunshine.

“Same as you always have. I’m still your Baby just like you are my Driver.” I reached over and lay a hand on his thigh. It felt right, natural to do so. I loved feeling Dean’s warmth under my hand, it was a new experience. “And while I’ve got the chance I want to tell you that I’m sorry. I am so very sorry for all those times...the time I f-failed you. Especially that crash with you and John.”

“Don’t bring that up....” Dean’s voice was hoarse and tired. He was tired, running on fumes and everything around him was falling to hell. I wanted him to know at the very least one thing was not his fault, not on his shoulders.

“I have to, it was my failure. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

“Even so, I’ll protect you.” I had to get closer, I had to cradle Dean like I did very other day of his life, I had to comfort him, there was no way that I would ever allow him to suffer with out all the comfort I could give. My arms were long and strong and I was able to wrap them around Dean and even keep him in place when he tried to squirm away, not wanting to accept my embrace. It was that pride, that independence that I respected more than I could ever say but despite all of that there were things that Dean had to accept. Facts were facts, and it was about time he knew. “I was made just for you, I was touched by God himself to be the vehicle of the Messiah.”

“Wait... what?”

“Like Jesus’ Donkey— but way more badass.” I had to smile when I felt more than heard Dean’s amused chuckle.

“So what you’re my car because the big douche bag upstairs decided that you were the right bribe for me?”

It hurt a bit, to hear that Dean thought I was only with him to fulfill some destiny he didn’t even want. The fact that I was destined to be with him was a perk for me, Dean was my Driver because he was the one who was born in my cab, he was the one that called me home. Dean was the one that never left.

“Nope. I’m your car because I don’t ever want anyone else behind my wheel, because no one else will be or has ever been so attentive to my needs, has made me all that I am on this and every other day that you sit behind my wheel. I’m your car because until the day I’m broken down for parts and left in a scrap yard I’ll be thinking of you and the long winding roads we travel on.”

“You know better than that. I’ll build you back up as many time as I have to. You’ll never be scrap as long as I’m around.” Dean leaned back in to my embrace and sighed deep and satisfied, “You still feel like home.”

“I’m more than happy to be your home Dean. I’ll be anything you need me to be.” I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his own just as I remembered watching John press his lips against Mary, just as Dean did with so with countless others. There was love, and there was comfort to be had in a kiss, and I wanted so much to comfort Dean.

“Don’t... Don’t do that unless you know what it means.”

“I’m older than you kid. Trust me when I say I know what it means.” I pressed my lips to Dean’s once more and used my weight and size to push him back against the bed we were sitting on.

He chuckled low, deep in his chest. “You know, I’m going to have to take your word on that ‘made for each other’ shtick.”

“That’s good,” I said between nips and kisses along the column of his neck, savoring the taste of Dean— so much better than motor oil or Premium gas. “Wouldn’t want you to think I was a liar.”

My hand enclosed around Dean’s, and I pressed my self closer to him. I had had dean inside of me before but this time I wanted to be in him. I had no secrets from Dean, and he had no secrets from me. But this, this was us being together in new and impossible ways.

Dean managed to get himself out of his clothing quickly despite the fact that i was on top of him kissing and fondling him, searching out and biting his raised dusky nipples. His shirt disappeared and his jeans and boxers dangled around his ankles, held there by his boots. Dean kicked off the boots and the pants too and that was just fine by me, they were out of the way.

Dean lifted his hands —hands I was intimately familiar with, strong, capable and calloused— to my shoulders and gave me a shove. He put the weight of his body behind the move and ended on on top of me. Dean straddled my waist and leaned over to the side to snatch the lube and condoms from the table.

God bless the boy, he knew just what I wanted.

I watched mesmerized as Dean handled my cock with all the ease and precision that he handled his own, suiting it up in rubber and giving it a generous coat of slick before his fingers reached around his thigh and he prepared himself. It didn’t take long for Dean to guide this new part of me into himself and begin to move.

The pressure and embrace of Dean’s body was magnificent, pleasure beyond compare, the smoothest longest roads had nothing on the glory that is Dean. 

When he started to shift and grind, his breath coming in low long huffs I pulled myself up to kiss him once more. I swallowed his breathes and relished his taste, biting at his plush lips and finally the crest of his shoulders. I let my hands find his thighs and gripped them tight. I knew they would bruise but I didn’t care, besides such marks were trophy’s for Dean.

I pistoned my hips and used my weight to topple us over so that I was now the one on top. Dean was bent against the head board, eyes cosed mouth open and panting as he ranked his nails across my sweat slicked back grasping for purchase on my skin.

I grasped the head board and used it as leverage to pump my hips more, to get closer and closer, and deeper and deeper into Dean. I watched through lust hazed eyes as Dean propped himself up on his elbows and used his strength to meet me thrust for thrust. His cock was hard and straining in the air looking for friction of any kind so that it could have just enough sensation.

I reached down and grabbed the cock in my hand, it was hot and thick and apparently didn’t mind the rough pulls because with in moments Dean was spilling into my hand with a hoarse shout and a quaking shudder.

It wasn’t too long after that I too had come and I slumped forward, arms crossed and propped on the headboard my face looking down between the spaces of my arms at Dean.

He was flushed, spent and barely awake. but he smiled at me and I never felt more at peace.

(-)

We sat shoulder to shoulder on the entrance stair of the motel room.

“You know, I’m going to miss talking to you.” Dean murmured, looking at me through from the corner of his eye. Dean hadn’t ever been shy but he wasn’t one for talking about things, it embarrassed him.

“You’ve always spoke to me.” I used my shoulder to bump into his, I wanted Dean looking at me. He had to know how much I meant the words that I was saying. “Even before when you couldn’t talk —yeah, I remember those days too— I understood what you meant.”

“Talking _with_ you then.”

“I’ll miss talking with you too. It’s different... I can actually answer you now.” I put my hand down on Dean’s knee, wanting to feel his heat under it once again. “I kind of like it. I like being your Baby more— I wont ever let you sit in just any old rust bucket, they aren’t safe.”

“Don’t brag, you don’t even have seat belts.”

“I don’t mean safe like that... That’s... we already went through that, let’s not do it again.”

“I’m sorry...” Finally he turned and looked me straight in the face. He’s beautiful this man, even embarrassed and with a face that showed his shame. His green eyes flickered away from mine, trying to overcome guilt to look at me and take responsibility. “I— the crow bar...I’m—”

“You were angry with good reason, and I can’t blame you. I failed.”

“No you didn’t—”

“Besides just because you got angry once doesn’t make me forget all of the times you fixed me, tuned me up, vacuumed my carpets, scrubbed chupacabra blood off of my leather seat and a million other things...” I wasn’t just saying things to make him feel better. The things I listed Dean had done and so much more. Dean had been born in my cab, he had me for comfort since he was a baby and I took care of him as much as I could just as he took care of me. It was a partnership, It was so much more. “You take such good care of me.”

Dean and I heard the gravel of the inn parking lot shift and the tell tale clack of women’s shoes on pavement. “Here she comes...”

Constance strode up the block with a smile. She looked nice dressed in a loose white sundress, her thick brown hair pulled up and styled with gold hair clips, gold earrings, bangles and glitzy heels too. “Here’s the potion,” She called as she made her way to them. She handed the vial of amber colored liquid to Dean and smiled at us, “Today’s the big day, I’ve got to go.”

“You still going through with this?” Dean asked even though he already knew her answer.

“Of course, Anyone would take Forty years of happiness over 80 of loneliness.” She said simply and flounced off to return to where ever she had come.

He smiled halfheartedly but didn’t say anything else. Dean had had forty years of hell, forty years of torture and pain... If anyone who knew how long forty years could be, it was Dean.

I gently pulled the vial from his fingers, drawing his attention back to me. I leaned forward, only about an inch and touched our lips together. This was the last time I would ever do that and I wanted it to count.

“You’re _my_ Driver, _my_ Baby. You’re meant to do great things. I couldn’t possibly be prouder of being your car, being your home. If you ever think of getting a new car I’ll run you over and break your feet off so you’ll have to get a candy-ass hand break.”

I uncorked the vial and held it up to the light and bolted it down like a shot. When I felt the tingle start in my fingers and toes I started talking again. All those things I wanted to say.... they suddenly came back. I knew I wouldn’t have time to get them all out but i tried anyway.

“Now, remember Premium only. And the next time you or Sam jam LEGOs in my heating vents you forfeit heat. 20 years of ratting blocks in your vents are enough to drive anyone insane. Got me? And don’t think you’re ever alone okay. I’m here. I promise I’ll never leave your side. I wont go anywhere, I was made just for you, I’ve always been just for you.”

It was a whirl of pain and mixed signals and buzzes and grinding but once I had all four wheels back on the pavement Dean opened my Driver’s side door and slid in behind my steering wheel and leaned back against the driver’s seat.  
I cradled him just like I always had, confident that Dean was exactly where he was supposed to be. was just where he belonged.

End

**Author's Note:**

> View what I consider the epilogue here:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXeMmHHyHdI.
> 
> edited for grammar.


End file.
